The Evil Girlfriend
by SherlockChlo
Summary: John's got himself another new girlfriend, but this one isn't like all the others. Can a surprising 'friend' help Sherlock survive? Will it cost them their own life in the process? Sorry, I'm rubbish at Summaries? Rated T for graphic torture scenes in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_**I'm just going to start by saying that this was my second Fanfiction ever written. I don't know whether I like it that much, but my friends seemed to, so here I am... Posting it now. I hope that you enjoy it. Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you for reading! :) I do not own Sherlock or the characters... Blah, blah, blah.**_

_**The Evil Girlfriend**_

_John Watson. To the newspapers he was known as 'Bachelor John Watson'. But to his best friend Sherlock, it was just simple John. He always was under the impression that Sherlock wouldn't really risk his life for him. He thought that he didn't care. However, when one of his girlfriends turned ugly, Sherlock was the first man on the scene._

_**Chapter 1  
"Sherlock..."**_

"And this is the place where it all happens."

Sherlock sighed. He'd heard that introduction many a time before this. To be honest he was really rather bored of how many women John dated. It was always the same. 'Welcome to the den.' John would introduce the woman to Mrs Hudson. She'd offer them tea, but both parts of the party would refuse. John would then twirl and pull the woman's hand upstairs. Then he'd lead them into the flat. 'And this is the place where it all happens.' That was Sherlock's favourite bit. He would always mimic John, just before he and his new lady came into view.

"So this is the famous Sherlock Holmes?" This woman's voice was sweet, and light. There was no sign of stress, nor nervousness. She was calm and different from the other women. On the other hand, nobody had ever said that when they entered the flat. Everywhere you could see there was books and different experiments laying around.."Hello. I'm Brooklyn Jones." She set out her small and rather delicate hand towards the aggressive looking man that sat before her. Sherlock didn't pay much attention to her, but then again, he never was very interested in the women that John managed to drag back to their flat.

"Sherlock. Are you going to say anything?" John stood next to Brooklyn, his arms were folded in a very camp way. His eyes looked at Sherlock's non-moving expression. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Brooklyn frowned at John; she'd wanted to meet Sherlock Holmes like nothing she'd ever wanted. Ever. "Sure. White, two sugars please." She turned around and pointed at the armchair that stood behind her. "Is it okay if I sit here?" Sherlock immediately pounced at her. John knew what Sherlock was about to say. He'd known Sherlock for too long not to know. Sherlock only thought about his experiments, and if someone touched them; they'd be sorry.

"Do you know what happened to the last of John's girlfriends when she touched one of my experiments?" Sherlock's eyes squinted, but he still managed to raise his eyebrows without looking like a clown in pain. He pushed past her and picked up the jar. "I'll give you a clue..." He smirked. His hand slowly raised and pointed at the shattered window. __

**(6 months previously)**  
"Oh. What's this John? It's a... Ugh. It's a box of thumbs." She closed the box and threw it at John's fragile stomach. "Why do you have a box of thumbs sitting on your sofa?" The girl scrunched her face up in disgust.

A few moments later, she was lying outside of 221B. 4 of her ribs were not only broken, but completely shattered. Her head was flowing like the river Nile. As it left, her hair became a big swimming pool; the dark red colour of the nail varnish that she wore. Her left lung was punctured straight through. She had asthma so already found it hard to breath, but this made it even worse as time went on. Her necklace practically strangled her, as she lay broken and almost dead on the floor. Her legs, bent in ways that Sherlock had never seen, made her seem like a puppet that was just dropped from it's owner's clutches. She could barely speak but a simple 'Ouch' managed to escape her trap every few minutes.

John turned and looked at the dark man that stood behind him. He stared and enjoyed his work. "Sherlock..." John's rough hands pushed Sherlock away as he threw himself towards the door. "I'm coming Alice!" John screamed down the stairs. Sherlock simply smirked. He was glad that he could finally show John what he could do. __

After John returned from the hospital, where he'd laid on Alice's bed-side for the past 5 hours, he punched Sherlock's sculpted face. "What the FUCK was that for?" John's anger was now released. Sherlock had just thrown his girlfriend out of the window, and he didn't even go to see if she was alright. Instead he remained in his seat and practised playing his violin."All she did was touch your precious box of thumbs. So, what. You throw everyone out of the window who touches your precious experiments?" John continued to shout. His heart rate started to increase. Sherlock sat in his armchair, legs crossed and fingers placed correctly over every string of the violin. He looked up at John and smiled.

"No John. It wasn't that she touched my experiment." His eyes returned to their forward position. John placed his hands on his hips, anger re-filled his face.

"Oh, so what was it?" He wanted and answers, and Sherlock would give them to him. Even if he had to beat it out of him. And this time he wouldn't miss his nose nor his jaw. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock chuckled to himself. "Well if you really want to know, John." He raised out of his chair and put the violin in the place where he'd sat. "She had an annoying laugh..." He walked past John's open-mouthed face and strolled quickly into his bedroom. John would never attempt to attack him in there. He'd always promised that he's burn his jumper collection if he even took a step in there if it wasn't necessary. He was safe.

_**(Back in present time)**  
_"She touched your thumbs, but you threw her out of your window..." The dark blue eyes of the woman that stood before Sherlock looked right into his. "Because she had an annoying laugh?" Her eyes returned to the window. She walked slowly towards it, admiring the work that Sherlock had done. "I suppose that's legit..." Brooklyn smiled to herself, she was only teasing Sherlock, seeing how he would react.

"Brooklyn...?" John was disgusted. He looked, in turns, at the two people that were in the flat with him. "How could you say something like that?" She turned to him, placing her hands around his neck. She leaned her head against his shoulders. "Oh, you were joking." It took John a few seconds to realise what he had just witnessed, but he started to fold his arms around her ribs. He could feel every single one of them perfectly. In many ways it was like hugging a skeleton.

"John, I have to go now. Sorry about the tea and everything. We should do this again some time." Her smile brightened up John's eyes. The sun's light behind her made her hair twinkle and shine. It almost blinded John, but he didn't flinch. He liked what he saw. His hands lead her downstairs and he kissed her on her golden cheeks.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I'm sorry that the chapter is short, i wrote it to keep the story linked. The next chapter is longer, I believe, so I'll post that as well. :) Enjoy!**_

_**Chapter 2**_

_**Sherlock is jealous**_

After she'd left, John stumbled back up the stairs. His heart had started to race, and his cheeks were a very bright pink. As he danced into the flat his eyes caught a very guilty looking Sherlock.. "What was that all about...?" John stopped and stared into his sulking friend's eyes. "You didn't succeed though." John smirked, he was pleased about this victory. Normally Sherlock would have managed to scare them away completely.

"You do realise that she's been married before John?" Sherlock didn't move. "She was tanned, but her wedding finger had a tan line the size of an engagement and wedding ring." He was now up and pacing around the flat. "She's probably still married now. Best to finish it now, John." He winked at the man who stood before him.

"I know that she was married Sherlock." John sighed. "She told me." Sherlock's face changed. He knew he was right. "But it's a she 'was' married." He turned and folded his arms. His face was now questioning what John was trying to say. "Yes, Sherlock. Her family passed away in a road collision, some 5 years ago. She's only just got over it." Sherlock was now running his hands through his hair, how could his analysis be wrong. He was never wrong. "See. Some people are harder to dissect than others, Sherlock. Even harder than those eyes you store in the freezer." John winked at Sherlock, it wasn't 's tone was now agitated, "John. Those eyes are not for dissecting."

"What?"

"I'm not going to dissect them..."

Without thinking John immediately interrupted what Sherlock was saying."Oh really? Are you going to throw them at Mrs Hudson? Or hide them in Anderson's pocket?" John shrugged his shoulders violently, trying to unpuzzle Sherlock's riddle.

"Well. I was going to say eat them, but those seem like much better ideas!" He flew out of his position and pulled on his coat and scarf as if they were a cloak. "The game, John, is on. Let's roll." John couldn't believe what he'd just done. Although, after a few seconds of deliberation he shrugged and followed Sherlock.

"Wait. 'Let's roll'? When have you ever said that in your life?"

Sherlock simply shrugged and replied with, "I fancied a change." He then turned to John and chuckled. "Much like you and your girlfriends."


	3. A Copper's Death

_**This one is even shorter... Sorry. But they'll be fine together I suppose. It literally is a link chapter to create some depth behind the story. **_

_**Chapter 3**_

_**A Copper'sDeath**_

"His name was Michael." Molly's voice filled the morgue with a small and tune filled sound. She wasn't particularly tall, nor very pretty. But she enjoyed the way she was and she wasn't prepared to change for anyone. "They found him in his flat, yesterday. Apparently he had hung himself..."

"But?" Sherlock cut her off.

"But there's evidence that his hands were tied. How could a man kill himself if he had no access?" Molly looked up at Sherlock. He was much taller than her, so attempting to see his expressions was a rather big struggle. "Will you be needing your riding crop today?" She joked. Somehow she knew that Sherlock's anger would be taken out on her, but she didn't mind. So, she grabbed the clip-board that lay next to the man's feet."He was a Police Officer. He knew you... But then again, most people know you don't they?" Molly chuckled. "Oh. I almost forgot. They found this written on the wall..." She stopped mid-sentence, biting hard down on her lip. Sherlock ripped the paper out of her hands. His eyes flickered over it, and then he threw it onto the floor.

"John. I'll see you back at the flat. There's something I need to do!" As John bent down to pick up the piece of paper that was on the cold and white floor, Sherlock disappeared out of the door. The paper was a photograph of a wall. On the wall, in blood; were the words: 'Coming. Ready or not, Sherlock.'

"Was this in his flat?" John asked Molly, as she trembled. She nodded and placed her hands over her hair. John then left, without saying another word.


	4. Chapter 4

_**I don't have any warnings in this chapter. It's the next one that really gets involved in the torture.  
I don't own any of Sherlock, all rights belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat and the BBC. **_

_**Chapter 4**_

_**Captured**_

Sherlock's hands were bound to a desk. He could feel the pull of the ropes on every one of his limbs. They seemed to get tighter with every breath he took. His shirt was gone, leaving his chest bare, cold and pale. He threw his head back onto the support that lay behind it. He could hear nothing. Nothing but the bare silence that surrounded him in every corner. He didn't understand how he could have been caught so quickly. Someone was watching him. Somebody knew what he was doing. But who could it be? Sherlock shut his eyes and thought about the events from the past few hours. At first, everything was blurred but eventually his thoughts started to clear.  
_  
**(6 hours previously)**_

"Mrs Hudson?" Sherlock's hands gripped onto the door handle to her flat. There was no sound inside. "Mrs Hudson?" He repeated himself. * Whack* Sherlock's head was hit with something blunt and round. His whole World twirled and then he fell to the floor.

_**(Back again)**  
_Sherlock's thoughts returned to the place in which he was tied down to. He could smell blood; it was most probably his. He could feel the blow still pounding on the back of his head. The room was cold and damp, it was obvious to him that nobody had been in here in a while. Suddenly, he could hear the sound of footsteps closing in on him. A dark figure swayed towards him.

"Hello Sherlock Holmes." A loud and mysterious German accent came from the figure. One that Sherlock couldn't recognise. "Or should I say," The voice changed, "So you're Sherlock Holmes?" Sherlock's eyes opened quickly. A woman dressed completely in black stepped into the light that shined right above Sherlock's body. She wore long leather gloves that stopped at her elbows. Her hair was tied back tightly into a bun, that was so perfectly formed it could have been on a model.

"Brooklyn Jones." Sherlock chuckled and put his head back down onto the rest. "Or should I say, Grace Thomas?" Her face appeared in the light. He could see every feature clearly. Her hair had changed colour and her rings were replaced on her fingers. Sherlock could see the expression of Grace change. She wasn't at all surprised that he knew who she was.

"Ah. So you do know?" She smiled at him and placed her hands on her waist. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to notice. What gave me away?" She was curious, she always wondered how he would do his trick.

"Well. Your rings were missing."

She tutted as her eyes rolled. "I know that already..."

"Yes, but the space was exactly the same length as the one I recorded on the day that I interviewed you. Do you remember? That was the case in which you were caught after you killed your husband and children..."

"Yes... Yes, you're right Mr Holmes. But how did I do that; I never found out if you knew." She moved to his head, stroking her long painted nails across his chest.

"Do you mind? You're in my personal space bubble." He looked up at her smirk, and then returned his head to a comfortable position. "You caught your husband having an affair, as I recall. You hung him up and slit him open. His insides were splattered all over your carpets. Then." Her eyes closed. She could picture every movement of her body during the vicious triple murder. "You grabbed your youngest by the throat. Using the knife you sliced open his scalp. He was screaming, wasn't he. So to silence him, you threw him onto the ground..." Sherlock knew that this was getting to the woman. Her eyes were filling with tears and her heart rate had increased. Small wheezing noises were leaving her mouth. "Any way. You crushed his skull and then cooked his brain for your daughter." He looked up at her. Small tears ran down her face. One-by-one they fell upon Sherlock's face. Somehow he could feel every piece of anger that she felt for him right now, inside each and everyone of her tears. She was being destroyed.

"Carry on..." She tightly shut her eyes, hoping that the tears would leave her alone.

"Your daughter. You used her crayons. There was evidence all inside her throat and nose..." Grace clutched her nose, it was obvious to Sherlock that she felt pain whenever she thought about it. "You shoved them up her nose and down her throat yelling at her. What did you say?"

5 more tears fell from her eyes before she managed to whisper out her answer. "You've killed your own brother..." Sherlock nodded.

"But. It was you." Sherlock's face turned into a wide grin. Much like the Cheshire Cat, he showed all of histeeth, "You killed your whole family..." His sentence was silenced by an almightly slap. Grace couldn't take any more.

"Very clever, Mr Holmes. You noticed that the events still haunt me. Well. Now _YOU_ will pay." Her eyes trailed off to an on-coming shadow. It was another woman.

"And what are you going to do?" Sherlock joked, he had no idea the plan that Grace had made for him.

"This is Zoe. She's hypnotised, of course. I don't want her remembering any of this." Grace twirled slightly, pulling Zoe closer to Sherlock's head. "She's brought her lie detector with her today." A smile appeared slightly on her face. "Every time you tell me a lie, she will use this 'Cat-O'f-Nine-Tails' on your precious. Little. Body." Her laughter pierced his ears. "Oh sorry. Is my laugh annoying?" Zoe turned and faced him.

"You could always chuck her out of a window." her laugh was robotic. Sherlock recognised her voice. This wasn't a girl named Zoe... It was John's ex-Alice. What had he done?


	5. Chapter 5

_**I didn't realise how short this one was... I'll post the next one also. Warnings for this one, it just gets a bit... Graphic? Possibly. I could picture it!?**_

_**Chapter 5**_

"_**You're lying..."**_

An hour had passed. Sherlock had counted that he'd been beaten with the whip a total of 57 times and he'd been electrocuted 19 times. Sherlock knew that he was answering truthfully, but it was clear to him that she just wanted him to suffer.

"You're lying again, Mr Holmes. How do you keep it up?" Grace gave a quick nod to Zoe who turned the electricity up to its maximum. "How are you feeling?" She teased him, stroking his forehead.

"Very good thank you." Sherlock's breath was heavy. He couldn't feel much of his front any more; most of it had been torn off by the whip. He could feel his blood and soul leaving his body every few moments. "Don't you believe me?" He chuckled, "Of course you don't. What did I do to you?"

Grace slammed her fists down next to his head. His ears started to pound."For once, Mr Holmes, you've got an enemy that doesn't really want you..." Her voice trailed off, leading to another scream of pain from Sherlock. Another layer of skin and muscle had been torn from his body. Zoe could practically see his ribs caged around his faster beating heart. It couldn't cope with his body being worn away.

"Who..." He started finding it harder and harder to breath. His whole body was still stretched out across the table and it seemed to still be pulling tighter, ripping his limbs apart. "Who's attention are you trying to get then?"

"His name, Mr Holmes, is James Moriarty. He's your biggest fan. If I get to you, I get to him." She smiled. Her red painted lips glistened in the little light that remained. "Sleep now Mr Holmes. Tomorrow you go on display..." Her voice drowned out of his mind. All he wanted to do, for the first moment in his life, was sleep. He would need his strength for something big tomorrow, and he knew it. But who was this James Moriarty? The name was unfamiliar to his memory. He slowly slipped into a deep and well needed sleep. So deep, it was almost like a coma. He lay motionless on the table, still strapped down. He was sore all over and his mind was weak.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Erm... Warning. A major character death. Well, they're major to me... Sorry. I couldn't help it. I did this RP with someone and they gave me the idea... It stuck, and here it is. Sorry again. But I hope you enjoy it. Sorry this one is short, as well. But you get two, so don't complain! Enjoy! :)**_

_**Chapter 6  
Molly  
**_

Sherlock was awoken by a giant thud. His eyes jerked as he squinted to see what was happening. His head was still heavy and hard to lift. He couldn't feel his stomach any more. The pain was too unbearable. He looked around. A gun shot came from behind him. The bullet seemed slow and flew right past Sherlock's face. He could feel the slight wind as it brushed past his hair in one swift motion. Someone let out a small 'yelp' as their whole body tumbled to the ground. Sherlock's weakened eyes couldn't make out exactly who the person was, but he knew that they wouldn't survive for long with that bullet in their lung.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed his face. Molly's lips pressed against Sherlock's. She'd always had feelings for him, but never did the time seem more appropriate for her to show them to him then now. She'd found him. "Sherlock... John is on his way!" Her eyelids fluttered quickly and her cheeks turned a new shade of pink. She was truly embarrassed by what she had just done. She untied his hand and his legs. Sherlock tried to get up, but the attempt failed. Instead he just collapsed into Molly's arms. She wasn't a very strong woman, so holding him was hard. "You look terrible." Molly tried to remain cheerful for Sherlock, considering his life was now in her hands. He limped on Molly's body for a few meters until *BANG *. Another shot was fired. This time Sherlock collapsed. He didn't feel anything hit him, so who was hurt? Both himself and Molly lay on the floor.

"Molly?" Sherlock heard her breathing change.

"Sh-Sherlock" Sherlock crawled over to Molly lying next to him. She was clutching her stomach, her hands covered in the spilling blood. "Help-Help me." Sherlock's hand moved and put deep pressure onto Molly's hand.

"Just keep it there Molly. You can't just, die on me." His other hand stroked her hair. Molly had drempt of this moment for a long time.

"This is my perfect situation you know, Sherlock. You've always been harsh to me and I appreciate that. You've made me stron-stronger." She smiled softly up into his tear-filling eyes. Sherlock had never realised that Molly felt this way about him. He'd always pushed her away. "I always jumped when you appeared behind me in the morgue, even if I kn-knew you were there. My heart beat always changed. My breathing increased. You always made me fluster." Her eyelids flickered as tears streamed slowly down her left cheek.

"Molly..." Sherlock couldn't find the right words to say to her. He felt sorry, but that wouldn't be enough. He kissed her forehead. Her eyes closed delicately when the kiss come into contact with her.

"I do-don't know if you've ever looked at someone and felt complete and utter hatred for them. But then at the same time, loved them?" Sherlock's cheeks started to get warm, he knew what Molly was about to say. "Since the first time that we met, at that coffee shop on Baker Street, I've always admired how little you have feelings for people. Not even Jo-John." Her words started to slur. She couldn't hold on for much longer, and Sherlock had started to panic.

"Molly." Tears fell down onto her pale and weakening face. "I've always..." His words couldn't be finished. His emotions were released onto her. All Molly could do is smile. She chuckled slightly at Sherlock's tears.  
She'd never seen him like this before.

"Sher-Sherlock... It... It's fine." Molly's voice trailed off. She could see the light fading from her vision. In Sherlock's arms, Molly's head drooped. Sherlock felt her leave. Molly Hooper was no longer part of this World. He laid her head softly onto the ground. Her hands became limp and fell to her side. He raised them back up to her waist and placed them together. It was almost as if she was sleeping.

Tears fell from his eyes as he went to her ear and whispered, "I love y-you, Molly Hooper." And with one final stroke of her hair, Sherlock rose from where he lay and stumbled towards the door. He himself was weak and didn't have much time left, but he carried on his struggle. When he reached the door, everything started to fade into a bitter darkness. He fell to the ground, his whole body collapsing like a dummy's.


	7. Chapter 7

_**I might post the last chapter as well, because I'm nice. And also this chapter is too short. Sorry. The ending is long though. Thank you for reading, and enjoy! I still don't own any of this. All rights go to their respective owner's. **_

_**Chapter 7  
Awake Again**_

_**(4 days later)**_

"Sherlock?" John's voice was good for him to hear. As his eyelids began to open slowly, John placed his hand upon his weak shoulder. "I thought I'd lost you for a moment there, Sherlock." He smiled into Sherlock's half closed eyes.

"I'm very resilient, you know that John..." Sherlock gave a small chuckle towards his friend, and then looked around the room. His eyes jerked back to John's over-joyed face. "Where's Molly?" His eyes studied John's movements for a minute, when he finally realised. "Oh. When is the funeral?" He placed his hands together, just like he'd put hers. They immediately fell apart.

"Next week." John rose from the bed and walked towards the window. "They want you to say something for her. Do you think you could manage that?" John shook his head.

"Yes, of course. It'll be my pleasure." Sherlock gave the best smile that he could give, he was still weak from the torture.

"Oh no, wait. I forgot. You're Sherlock Holmes. Going to Molly's funeral would decrease the amount of intelligence you have. Well, sir. You'll just have to stoop to our level from now on." John continued, not noticing that Sherlock had managed to say 'yes' to something important for once. "If Molly isn't even worth anything to you, then what am I worth?" John then paused. He was so angry.

"John." Sherlock sighed.

"_WHAT_?" John turned around and threw his hands to his side.

"I've already agreed. I want to go to her funeral!" Sherlock half smiled up to his friend. "I'll plan it, if they want me to." He reached for the glass of cold, fresh water that stood on the table next to his head. "Should be fun!" He raised the glass to his friend and then placed it at his lips. He drank quickly, as if he was never going to drink again. John's face turned pale. He simply froze and watched Sherlock as he went through a magazine that Mrs Hudson had left him.

"Are you alright, Sherlock?" John's eyes squinted at Sherlock's guzzling face.

"Why wouldn't I be? I mean, I've been tortured with a whip that nearly revealed everything that's inside me, and my brain is probably fried to a crisp." John sighed. "But apart from that little, shall I say, adventure-I'm fine. Your girlfriends suck, John. And I should advise you not to try and seal any kind of relationship in the future, for both _mine _and your well-being." He continued to read the magazine that rested on his knees. John concentrated on Sherlock for the next few minutes, not moving. "What's wrong?" Sherlock's eyebrows were raised as he asked the man that stood before him.

"Nothing. Nothing." John then gave Sherlock a quick nod, and then left speedily out of the door. As soon as it closed, a nurse passed by, brushing her arm against his. "Excuse me, nurse!" John called after her. "How many drugs did you give him?" She simply smiled at him, shrugging her shoulders carefully. "Sorry, it's just, he seems far too human to be Sherlock..." He waved her off.


	8. Chapter 8

_**This chapter is much longer than the others. Thank you for reading; I hope the ending isn't too disappointing! I don't think that it's that great, but you get to see a different side of Sherlock here which is truly human. I think his torture could change him somehow, and this is what I thought of. Enjoy! :)**_

_**Chapter 8**_

_**Molly's Funeral**_

_**(1 week later)**_

In total there were 150 people at Molly's funeral. Sherlock didn't invite many of them. Both he and John came willingly. The other 148 people that stood inside the church were blackmailed. Sherlock had information on every single one of them. If they didn't turn up, then that information would be spilt. Many ended up coming because it was either saying goodbye, or being shot in the head with a machine gun.

"Surprisingly, not many people chose that option." Sherlock joked as he stepped out of the car. "This was her favourite place." He looked upon the green and ivy coloured leaves that stuck lightly onto the hard barked trees. "Well, apart from the morgue." He half smiled at John and placed his hands in his pockets. He was dressed in a black suit that was complimented with a silver lined black tie. John wore exactly the same,except for the shoes. He had chosen to wear his old army boots, compared to Sherlock's shinier long toed shoes.

"Sherlock." Greg Lestrade stepped towards Sherlock and held out his hand. Sherlock shook it willingly. Anderson followed him also dressed in the suit that Sherlock had picked out for all four of them. "Lovely setting." Greg's voice was trying to be cheerful, but it was obvious that he was nervous about carrying her.

"Ready. 3...2...1." All four of the men lifted the coffin onto their shoulders. It was an oak coffin. The linings were velvet, the colour of Molly's dress. Sherlock wanted this to be as perfect for Molly as possible. Her coffin was light, as he expected, and looked perfect against the four men's suits.

As each of the men stepped forward into the church, everyone rose. Most people dressed in the normal and traditional black, however Mrs Hudson matched Molly's dress inside the coffin. The men moved in perfect synchronisation; each stepping: 'Left, right, left, right...etc'. When they reached the head of the church, they carefully placed the coffin onto the red stand that was covered in silk. The church was covered almost head to toe in cob-web like material. A man at the side of the hall, stood and threw blossom in front of a fan. The blossom blew over Molly's coffin and laid itself upon it every few pieces.

For most people the service seemed long and boring, but to Sherlock, he had never been so attentive. He was waiting and preparing for the moment that he wanted to happen as soon as possible. His speech. When it was time, the Reverend hailed him with his old and drooping hand. He stood up faster than a cheetah could run, and made his way straight for the stand. When in his place, he took out a piece of lilac coloured paper from his inside left pocket and placed it upon the reading post. He looked around the room, before he began. His eyes fixing on a strange figure at the back of the room.

And then he began.

"_My name is Sherlock Holmes. _

_I've known Molly for a few years now, and I never told her how I felt._

_This, for me, is that perfect opportunity._

_I suppose I should start by saying to you, how wonderful the lady who lays beside me was._

_Molly Hooper never had a care. _

_Her heart beat for everyone around her, and never herself._

_Whenever I walked into the morgue to see her, she used to fluster. _

_Her heart beat rose, and her breathing increased. _

_Those words, people who sit before me, were not mine._

_Those were the words that Molly Hooper herself, told me when she lay dying in my arms._

_She was always a little sweetheart._

_Her hair always managed to miss-place itself so that I would put it back into place. _

_Her cheeks were pale most of the time, however when she blushed they turned the most beautiful pink known to man. _

_Her auburn hair always used to glisten in the shadowing light of the morgue, and it always looked gorgeous!_

_Her smile brought joy to everyone around her._

_No matter what she felt, Molly smiled._

_A perfect example of someone who was very happy to be upon this World._

_Although she has left and will never return to us;_

_We can all remember her the way that she was._

_Not many people knew her name, however as soon as they saw her famous personality; they liked her immediately._

_One moment, her eyes were blue like the midnight sky, always shining like the moon up high._

_It was almost possible to see the universe turning in them._

_The next they were the sea green, or like the trees in a summer breeze._

_At moments, you could see rainbows dancing inside of them._

_They twirled. Danced. Much like Molly herself." _

Sherlock stopped for a moment trying to catch his breath, before continuing with his speech.

"_If I had to describe Molly I would say that she was an 'angel'. _

_She always gave everyone such hope and joy._

_I know that for both John and I, that we would not be standing here today if Molly was not by our side when we needed her most._

_Many times she has been shot risking her life for the better of the people around her._

_Her story's ending was no different._

_Molly was killed during action._

_I had been captured by one of John's evil girlfriends and had to pay the price._

_When she rescued me; a bullet, no bigger than the earrings she wore, flew towards her and caused her to collapse._

_That bullet lodged into her spine, and caused several blood lettings along the way._

_But even at death's bedside, she remained positive._

_Her smile still shone on her face. _

_Eyes still twinkling in the little light that was poured upon her._

_As she died, I felt her life leave her body, as if I myself were in control._

_Many of you before me would say, 'Maybe it was you'. _

_I would never wish Molly any harm, until this day at which point she's already passed._

_I can tell you now, family and friends,that Molly now rests in a better place._

_In time she will become dust. That dust will fall all around us._

_It will catch onto our clothes, and cling onto our hair._

_But the place she really wants to go, is travelling through the air. _

_We will hear her sweet laughter as it flows on past._

_As her last remaining mark here on Earth._

_I most certainly will never forget what she has given to me._

_And I hope that you share the thoughts that have been brought to you today."_

Sherlock wiped a fresh tear from the corner of his cheek. His eyes were filled with water trying to escape down his face.

"_Sometimes I wonder, 'what kind of person should I be?'_

_I know now that I only want to be a person, who is someone like Molly._

_Thank you."_

Sherlock finished and wiped the tears away. He sniffed slightly and walked from the stand; gripping tightly onto the paper from which he had just read. He hadn't told anyone that this paper was from Molly's secret stash in her apartment, but that information would never leave his lips. The same figure Sherlock had watched throughout the entire speech suddenly left the church. To him, it looked like they were crying. But he couldn't tell from such a distance. Who could it be?

Molly's coffin was laid in a deep and rocky looking grave. Sherlock threw several roses of different colours into the grave. He could hear the sound of them hitting her resting place lightly, and lying upon it. He could feel the thud as they remained laying there. After everyone had departed from the coffin lowering, Sherlock and John stood side-by-side looking over Molly's body.

"Sherlock." John placed his hand upon Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock simply hummed towards John, he didn't feel much like talking any more. "Did you really mean everything that you said back there?" AllSherlock's body allowed him to do was nod. His eyes were flowing like a river. And he could hardly breath. "You made me cry, you know. I've never seen so many emotions from you." John moved Sherlock's face towards him and smiled softly into his eyes. "Come on., let's go and celebrate Molly's life."

"I'll catch up with you. I just, erm... I need to say goodbye." Sherlock gave John a quick pat on the cheek and then turned back towards the open hole. After he knew that John was clear away from him, he turned towards the leaning tree that stood magnificently behind him. Behind the leant habitat, stood the figure that was at the back of the service. "How did you do it?"

"I'm a Forensic Pathologist." The figure walked towards Sherlock and dropped her hat onto the ground. "I know how to fake my own death, Sherlock." She placed her neatly painted hands through the hoop in Sherlock's arm.

"It's good to see you." Sherlock smiled facing the grave.

"And you." Molly rest her head against Sherlock's shoulder, both parties liked this moment."Did you really mean all of that?" Her expression changed to one of questions.

He turned towards her, "Of course." giving her a small smile of approval. The wind blew through her hair letting it flow into Sherlock's face. He didn't mind; he had lost and regained his first true love in the same day. "You might want to take your hat... What's your new name?" He paused and then questioned. She couldn't still be Molly Hooper. She went to pick up her hat.

Kneeling, she answered in a new tone of voice, "Niamh." She looked up at him, his hands remained in his pockets as he watched her every movement. She pulled that hat onto her head, and let the veil cover her face. "Niamh Murphy." Sherlock smiled right into her eyes. "Do you like it?"

"Very clever." Both Niamh and Sherlock laughed. She re-took his arm and then they both strolled to Molly's funeral party. "You do realise Anderson is only here because I told him that there was cake?" He chuckled.

"Is there?"

"No." He smirked.

Sherlock and Niamh walked into the sunset, guided by the shadows of the trees that were along the path next to them. Molly was dead. Now only Niamh lived through the same body.

**R.I.P.**

_**THE END!**_

_**This was two chapters... That's why it was long. Oh well, I just took the chapter out and continued it. It won't hurt me so. Thank you for reading. I hope that you enjoyed it. Please review. :)**_


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